


Blue Eyes

by in_lighter_ink



Category: Torchwood
Genre: 1-500 words, Baby!Fic, Comment Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_lighter_ink/pseuds/in_lighter_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Gwen Cooper, her daughter's blue eyes remind her of two best friends now long gone</p><p>(note: This is not a Children of Earth fixit)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Eyes

Gwen had been terrified that Rhys would get suspicious when infant blueish-grey hadn't darkened to green, hazel, or brown, but had lightened to pale, clear blue instead. She didn't want that row, couldn't bear the idea of it. She needn't have worried.

They can't exactly figure where Anwen's blue eyes had come from -- certainly not Gwen's family. Rhys thought he remembered a blue-eyed uncle, but his eyes had been much darker, more changeable.

Of course, she'd have thought their daughter the most beautiful thing alive no matter what, but Gwen's especially glad for this particular genetic fluke.

(In every other way, all the relatives have said, Anwen takes after Gwen. She's already preparing herself for teenaged tears over the gap-toothed smile shared by generations of Cooper women.)

The eyes, though, the eyes are echoes of the past that Gwen's still trying to balance between holding too tightly and letting slip too far away. She doesn't know yet whether to laugh or cry when she can't help but see glimpses of Ianto in Anwen's wide-eyed, so-careful-it's-almost-fussy arranging of toys around her cot; traces of Jack in an ear-to-ear grin that utterly and immediately charms anyone that sees it.

Usually, it's a bit of both, a sniffling, watery giggle that's answered by Anwen's own clear laughter.

The sound of that laugh steals her breath, traps it as the best kind of ache in her chest, and she feels the uncontrollable urge to hug daughter and husband close and never let them go.

Rhys wordlessly wipes Gwen's tears away, kisses her hair. Keeps her grounded while she remembers, then gently tugs her back to the present they're creating together.

But he always nods, and she knows he sees them sometimes, too. Her absent, blue-eyed friends.


End file.
